


i don't remember you lookin' any better

by bellawritess



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Hoodies, M/M, Rating for Language, canon verse or whatever that's called, cute shit, how tf do i tag this era, i stole the plot from a thing alex told me once, idk their exact ages probably about 19 x 17 or something right?, since this fic is for him, this is that, u know when they just moved to london, uhhh, which i feel is fitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:09:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28543836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellawritess/pseuds/bellawritess
Summary: Luke ruminates for a moment, eyebrows drawn in thought. “You’re thinking that you want your hoodie back.”Ashton blinks, surprised. “Not really, but close. I was thinking about how cute you look in it.”
Relationships: Luke Hemmings/Ashton Irwin, background malum - Relationship, but when is there not - Relationship
Comments: 11
Kudos: 49





	i don't remember you lookin' any better

**Author's Note:**

  * For [waytoofadedtodrive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waytoofadedtodrive/gifts).



> ahhhhhhh sorry i'm usually quite prompt with these but i totally lost track of time today HOWEVER it is still the 3rd on the west coast meaning it is still [alex](http://waytoofadedtodrive.tumblr.com/)'s birthday and SO, technically, this birthday fic is not late! so: happy birthday alex, i wrote you a fic because i don't have much else i can do and i wanted to. sappy message ahead:
> 
> alex waytoofadedtodrive aka the cooler alex, you have just been. an endlessly source of comfort for me. i am unspeakably grateful to have you in my life. you are so sexy and SO cool and i truly admire the wisdom and intelligence and patience with which you approach the world. i have tremendous respect for you not to mention SO MUCH love it transcends boundaries and i hope that i get to have you in my life for a whole lot longer and that you are giving me fun psych facts until i die <3 love you a lot
> 
> this fic is 100% based on that thing you told me your fiance does with your hoodies. i think that's like. the cutest shit ever. so i hope you'll forgive me for writing it into fic. and i hope you like it lol
> 
> the hoodies in this fic Are Real Hoodies ! i did my research, kinda, so [here](https://data.whicdn.com/images/238272341/original.png) is the clash hoodie and [here](https://64.media.tumblr.com/18cebae1fe2806ebf95133ccc5fb98d9/tumblr_inline_pnyqqv4FMp1rbc1d9_1280.jpg) is the grey hoodie yes i know these are not necessarily from the times this fic takes place but as usual Please, a grain of salt. or several
> 
> title from who says by john mayer

Ashton has checked every single drawer in his room, and he cannot find his Clash hoodie. He stands in the middle of his room, hands on hips, and finally takes a deep breath and calls out, “Luke?”

Pause. “Yeah?”

“Any idea where my Clash hoodie is?”

Another pause, this one significantly longer. “...I might.”

Ashton frowns. “Okay? Can you tell me where it is so I can wear it?”

“...No.”

“Why the fuck not?”

Luke appears in the doorway, and Ashton sighs. “Oh.”

“I’m not giving it back,” Luke says, wrapping his arms around his torso like that’ll glue Ashton’s Clash hoodie to his body. “It smells like you.”

Ashton rolls his eyes, even though that’s cute as fuck. The problem with Luke is that Ashton thinks _everything_ he does is cute as fuck, even when it’s mischief. Especially then. And Luke _knows_ that. He uses it to his advantage. Luke is a chess grandmaster and Ashton is just his helpless pawn. It’s disgusting. No one person should have this much sway over Ashton, and yet.

“You know, _I_ smell like me,” Ashton counters, approaching Luke. “You could just hang out with me and get the same result.”

Luke wrinkles his nose. “You don’t smell like you, you just smell like a guy.”

“I just smell like a _guy_?”

“Yeah. Your hoodie smells like you, though, you know?”

“Luke. What?” Ashton makes a confused face. “How the fuck can the hoodie smell like me if even _I_ don’t smell like me?”

“I can’t _explain_ it, okay? It just does.”

“Luke,” Ashton huffs, finally close enough to wrap Luke up in a hug. He likes to bitch about Luke being taller — Ashton is older, should be taller, something in that vein — but also, he very much enjoys being able to tuck himself into Luke’s chest like he does now. “You can’t just take my hoodies. I need those. It’s cold here.”

“You’ve got other hoodies!” Luke protests.

That’s true. He has. And he _likes_ the Clash one a lot, but he’s not, like, emotionally attached to it or anything. It’s more about the principle, but the more Ashton thinks about it the more he wonders why he’s even bothering. It’s not like he wants Luke to stop stealing his clothes. He’d like to know where his clothes _are_ , but Ashton has to admit that seeing Luke swallowed up in his jumpers has been one of the highlights of living somewhere as cold as London.

“Fine,” says Ashton. “Just don’t lose it.”

“I’m not going to lose it,” Luke says. “I’m not even going to take it off.”

Ashton shakes his head and laughs against the front of the hoodie. “Okay. Sure.”

* * *

Luke has not taken the hoodie off.

It’s been two days, and it’s not like Ashton always has Luke in his sight, but still. True to his word, Luke has not taken the hoodie off except to shower. Ashton considers stealing it back while Luke’s in the shower, but he’s not that cruel. 

Never mind that it’s _his_ fucking hoodie.

It’s kind of cute, though, in the way that Luke’s always cute. The hoodie is too big for Ashton, which means it’s also too big for Luke, which means that when the sleeves aren’t pushed up to keep out of the way, they’re falling over Luke’s hands. Luke has taken to bunching up the ends of the sleeves in his palm inside the sleeve, possibly to trap heat. It’s adorable, in Ashton’s professional and very unbiased opinion.

Luke is still wearing the hoodie when the four of them sit down to watch _Mean Girls_ on Friday night. Liz has retired for the night with a wry request to _please get enough rest, you four, you’ve had a busy week_. This request is immediately ignored; by the time they’ve all put comfy pyjamas on and Michael has burned popcorn and then Calum has made better popcorn and Luke and Michael have had an almost-shouting match over who’s sitting on the far left corner of the couch broken up by Ashton suggesting Michael and Calum take the right side, which Calum immediately agrees to over Michael’s protests, it’s already half eleven.

“Okay, let’s just start it,” says Michael, snuggling up to Calum, who, in the end, is on the far side of the couch, with Michael between him and Luke, and Ashton on the other end.

“Please, yes,” Luke says, already lifting the remote to hit play. “Are we allowed to talk?”

“Like to quote the movie?” Calum asks. “Yes. Not for talking over the plot. Luke.”

“I don’t —”

“Don’t even start,” Michael says, pointing half-heartedly at Luke. “You’re the chattiest person on the planet any time we watch anything.”

“Okay,” Luke huffs. “I won’t talk.”

Ashton pulls Luke closer to his side as a conciliatory gesture, and Luke all but melts into him, disappearing almost entirely into the hoodie he’s somehow still got on. “We can communicate in sign,” Ashton whispers, careful not to be too loud now that the film has started and they’ve _just_ been instructed not to talk. “Or telepathically.”

“Okay,” Luke whispers back. “What am I thinking right now?”

Ashton pauses for effect. “You’re thinking that I’m extremely comfy and warm and that you love me the most out of anyone.”

“No,” Luke says. “I was thinking how much I want ice cream.”

“Fuck you,” Ashton says as Luke giggles. He catches Calum’s eye and Calum rolls his eyes before turning back to the movie, so Ashton brings his arm further around Luke to cover Luke’s mouth with his hand. “Hush, you’re being too loud.”

Luke licks his hand, which does not surprise Ashton in the slightest. “My turn to guess what you’re thinking,” Luke whispers, peering up at Ashton’s face. Ashton wipes his hand on Luke’s joggers.

“Alright, go on.”

Luke ruminates for a moment, eyebrows drawn in thought. “You’re thinking that you want your hoodie back.”

Ashton blinks, surprised. “Not really, but close. I was thinking about how cute you look in it.”

Luke grins. “Oh. Awesome. That’s even better.”

“Although I _would_ like it back at some point.”

“You’ll have it back,” Luke says vaguely. “Eventually.”

“When, exactly?”

“When it stops smelling like you. And then I’ll take this one instead.” He pats Ashton’s stomach, indicating the plain grey one that Ashton has on at the moment.

Ashton snorts a quiet laugh. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“You really aren’t going to take this off until it stops smelling of me?”

“Yeah,” Luke says. There’s a frown in his voice. “It barely does anymore. You’ll have to start wearing it again.”

“I’m not your personal hoodie slave.”

Luke looks up at Ashton and kisses his jaw. “Aren’t you, though?”

Isn’t he, though? Ashton sighs. “Stop talking,” he chides. “You’re missing the movie.”

Luke grins like he’s _soooo_ triumphant and adjusts his position to lean more comfortably against Ashton’s chest.

* * *

As promised, Luke returns Ashton’s hoodie the following day.

It’s folded up on Ashton’s pillow when he comes back from his morning run, and Ashton shakes his head a little when he sees it. He’s surprised that Luke is even awake right now. Usually he sleeps as late as he possibly can. Ashton knows firsthand that Luke isn’t a morning person; he’s always tasked with waking him, which has resulted in several death threats (insincere), facial injuries (of varying but mild severity), and pillow fights (violent). And, on a rare lucky morning, a kiss or a cuddle, but Ashton has stopped expecting those — or any romance whatsoever — from Luke before nine in the morning.

Point being there’s really no explanation for Luke being awake at eight. Ashton decides he’ll figure out what’s what after he showers, and makes for the bathroom.

As he steps out of the bathroom, feeling clean, he towels off his hair and then pulls on the Clash hoodie. No doubt Luke will want him to wear it anyway, and Ashton figures he might as well just skip a step. Dressed and comfy, he heads to the kitchen.

(Ashton’s never really been the type to find sentiment in a scent — he doesn’t exactly understand the whole smells-like-you thing. Most things just smell like what they are, and Ashton has pretty much given up trying to puzzle out whether people like Luke really mean it when they say _it smells like you._

But his hoodie smells different, for sure — not like Luke, because Ashton doesn’t really know how Luke smells, but not like his hoodie, either. Curious indeed.)

Liz is at the dining table when Ashton walks in. The house is quiet — Calum and Michael are probably up but still cuddling, or whatever. Ashton casts his gaze around for Luke and finds him sitting on the counter, phone in front of his face, legs kicking the cabinets, in none other than Ashton’s grey hoodie.

“Morning,” says Liz, looking briefly away from the paper to give Ashton a nod.

“Morning,” Ashton replies. Luke glances up.

“Oh, good morning,” he says happily, and Ashton likes knowing that he’s the cause of the happiness in Luke’s voice. 

“Morning, Luke,” he says, inclining his head. “You’re up early.”

Luke makes a displeased face. “I know. I forgot that I had my alarm on and then I couldn’t fall back asleep after.”

“Tragic,” Ashton says. “Absolutely heartbreaking. That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard in my entire life.” By which time he’s standing between Luke’s knees, snaking his arms around Luke’s stomach to hug him and pressing his cheek against the cotton of his kidnapped hoodie. 

Luke sighs dramatically. “I know, I know. I’m so strong.”

“The strongest,” Ashton says solemnly. Figuring one of them ought to acknowledge it, he adds, “Thank you for my hoodie back.”

“Thank you for me stealing a different hoodie instead,” Luke says lightly. Ashton smiles, wry. “Keep wearing that one so you can get the smell back. I like the Clash one more than this.”

“Hey, don’t diss my grey hoodie,” Ashton protests. “That hoodie has gotten me through hard times.”

“I like it! I just like this one more.” Luke pulls at the fabric of the Clash hoodie. “I’m not complaining.”

“You better not be. I could hide them, you know.”

Luke faux-gasps. “You wouldn’t.”

“Well, start minding your manners and we’ll just see.”

“Eh,” Luke says dismissively. “I’d find them.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“No! It’s not a challenge. Fuck you.”

“Luke,” Liz clucks distractedly.

“Sorry,” Luke mutters. Then, to Ashton, “Hey, you wanna cuddle? I’m still tired anyway.”

Ashton likes being awake right now. He enjoys the quietude that accompanies the sleeping house, and the nice bond he and Luke’s mum have formed from being up when Ashton’s bandmates are all asleep. Once he’s awake, he doesn’t really go back to sleep. It’s just not his style.

Unfortunately, Ashton can feel himself being manipulated, and he doesn’t even care. Luke looks so sleepy and adorable, and he definitely knows it and is definitely using it to his advantage. And Ashton doesn’t even care. “Yeah, okay,” he concedes.

Luke makes a small _yay!_ sound under his breath, which makes Ashton grin, stepping back and offering a hand to help him off the counter. He kisses his mum’s cheek as they pass, and Liz doesn’t react, though Ashton sees her smile just a little before they both disappear into Ashton’s room and swing the door shut.

Luke launches himself at the bed and is under the covers in a flash. “Tired?” Ashton teases.

“I don’t get enough sleep around here,” Luke declares. “It’s a crime. Alarm clocks should be outlawed.”

“For sure,” says Ashton, clambering under his duvet and snaking an arm around Luke’s waist to draw him in. “That’s the most logical thing to do.”

“Yeah,” Luke says decisively. 

“I don’t know why you bother with alarm clocks when they don’t even work for you half the time. I’m always the one waking you up.”

“Only sometimes.” Luke yawns. “And I like when you wake me up.”

“Really? Could’ve fooled me.”

“Well, I prefer you to an alarm.”

“Again, could’ve —”

“Shut up,” Luke complains. Ashton laughs. They fall quiet, and Ashton closes his eyes and inhales deeply. An unexpected realization strikes him.

“Hey,” he says. “My hoodie smells like you.”

Luke hums. “That’s because I just wore it for three days straight, you idiot.”

“Wh — no, but…” Ashton frowns. “I didn’t realize…that I knew how you smelled.”

“Manly and rugged?”

Ashton snorts. “I, uh, sure.” 

“I’m very manly,” Luke says. “Very rugged.”

“Yes, yes. The manliest. But I thought things just smelled like things, but my — _this_ hoodie, I mean, the Clash one smells like you. Or at least…it smells like you wearing it. Or…something. I don’t know.”

“Jesus, Ash,” Luke says, laughing quietly. “Don’t overthink it so much. It’s cute.”

It _is_ kind of cute. Though that could just be the eternal problem of Ashton finding everything Luke-related cute. Maybe Ashton should stop seeing that as a problem, even if it is one, and just be glad that his boyfriend is cute, instead of annoying or obsessive or incredibly stupid.

“Alright, it’s cute,” he allows. “You’re cute.”

Luke shuffles around, settling more solidly into Ashton’s hold. “Thank you. I try.”

“You’re supposed to call me cute.”

Luke huffs. “Well, do something cute and I will.”

Ashton kisses the back of Luke’s neck and squeezes him tight. “I’m wearing this hoodie with the sole intent of letting you take it from me in several days. How is that not cute?”

“Hm. Okay, that’s cute. Hey, we’re cute.”

“I would say so.”

“Thanks for the hoodies,” Luke whispers, awkwardly twisting his head and kissing Ashton’s arm. “I like having them smell like you. It’s like you’re there even when you’re not.”

Ashton sighs, though this time it’s a sigh of contentment, because God he loves Luke so much it drives him insane sometimes. “Love you, you know.”

“Yeah,” Luke replies, and yawns again. “Love you too.”

Ashton doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but between the blanket and the hoodies and Luke’s fingers interlaced with his own, he’s never been happier to drift off.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading <3 happy birthday alex i'm sorry this was a little late but you are so very important to me i couldn't just let the day pass without acknowledging it in my own way aka writing you a fic cos idk how to do anything else ! i am just full of love for The Cooler Alex and there's nothing you can do about it.
> 
> anyone who wants to chat, i'm on tumblr [@clumsyclifford](http://clumsyclifford.tumblr.com/) so come say hey!!! that's all, love you, goodnight


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